


the learning curve

by achillese



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-28 20:54:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/678794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/achillese/pseuds/achillese
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael's always been content following God's plan...until the existence of one Adam Milligan completely undoes everything Michael once believed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the learning curve

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](http://srs2012-r3.dreamwidth.org/1065.html#cutid1) on dreamwidth for the Supernatural Rarepair Shipfest 2012. Absolutely fantabulous accompanying artwork by [Karu](http://happyfunballxd.tumblr.com/) is [here](http://i739.photobucket.com/albums/xx39/karuchibishop/srsrevolution_zpsd7ffa77e.png).

Michael knew how this story would end, but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out a way to rewrite the ending, nor did he think he had a choice in the matter. He’d always known it had to end with the Winchester boys one way or another, and so for a long time he kept his distance, content to watch the pawns at play as they criss-crossed the country in search of more danger, more mystery, and more answers.

His metaphorical money was, had always been, on Dean, the little soldier who walked so carefully in his father’s footsteps that Michael sometimes felt as though he were looking into a mirror. Likewise, God had claimed Sam for Lucifer, and so for a time there was nothing left for Michael to do but wait until Dean grew into his proverbial hunter boots.

In the year 1990, the story took a different path. A boy, born with only half Winchester blood, came into existence in the world. Michael was, for lack of a better word, confused. God had never, not once, mentioned a third son, never hinted that maybe there would be a deviation in the story.

Michael’s confusion was brief. The third boy didn’t matter; Dean Winchester was still the focus, and Dean was the goal. There was no sense being run off the track of fate by some scrawny kid who didn’t even know the difference between a ghoul and a ghost.

Michael tried not to pay attention to the third boy, aptly named Adam, but he couldn’t help himself. Curiosity at an unplanned, unknown thing won over and Michael found himself checking in on Adam every now and then. His first day at kindergarten. His first school presentation. His first fight in the schoolyard. His first kiss.

Michael was there for it all – even the first time Adam met his father, John Winchester. There was, after all, no way he’d want to miss _that_ inevitable, providential meeting. He watched as a twelve year-old skinny boy with too-big eyes and too-thin lips met one of the most renowned hunters in the country and didn’t even think anything of it. To this boy, John was just a man, nothing more. But to Michael, he was a destiny waiting further down the road…or at least his sons were.

So he continued to watch Adam, this time a little closer than usual. He divided his time between the two – Adam and Dean then back to Adam again – and didn’t think to tell his brothers and sisters that maybe, just maybe, the deviating bloodline could be of use to them in the future. For now, Adam was his to watch over, and he didn’t want any of his siblings interfering.

Interference, however, suddenly became an option one fateful spring, during Adam’s first year at college (which, of course, Michael had been there to witness). Michael watched, helplessly, as Adam received word that his mother was missing, and that there would be a town-wide search for her if he’d like to return home to Minnesota and join in or aid the police in any way.

Without hesitation, of course, Adam went home, now no longer the gangly kid Michael remembered but a semi-built young man of nineteen with gold hair and blue eyes that deepened whenever he was feeling tired or sad. So full of newfound knowledge was he, brimming with collegiate potential, but Michael knew what Adam didn’t – that home was dangerous, that therein lay a trap that Adam was no doubt meant to walk into. His life was, quite literally, at stake, and if Michael chose not to lift a finger, everything would go as planned.

As planned. What did those words mean to Michael anymore, now that Adam existed? Adam was never part of the plan, was never a figure in God’s great masterpiece, yet here he was, full of Winchester blood and very clearly a thread meant to lead somewhere. If Adam had never been part of the plan, did that mean Michael still had to play by God’s rules? Did he still have to sit by and watch this boy die at the hands of vengeful creatures that lurked in the dark, creatures Adam knew nothing about? Adam’s existence alone made him exempt from destiny, after all…

Maybe if Michael watched from a closer range, maybe if he came down from Heaven, he could at least keep a better eye on Adam. Maybe it wouldn’t end up the way Michael believed it would.

And so with that reasoning in mind, that’s exactly what he did. One temporary vessel later, who coincidentally looked like a younger John, and Michael was walking Earth for the first time in millennia. And all for what? For an unexpected pawn in an unforgiving chess game.

Regardless, Michael knew Adam was heading home, and so that was his first stop, arriving at the house just minutes before Adam was due to show up.

Michael could feel the creatures scuttling around in the house as though the house was his own body; his angelic tendrils reached out and felt the ghouls laying in wait for Adam to show up as Michael stepped through the threshold. The ghouls weren’t fooled by his appearance – they knew their target and they knew not to give themselves away by attacking Michael.

They couldn’t see him from where they hid, but there was no doubt they could hear him.

“You have no business here,” Michael commanded, voice unfamiliar as his vessel’s vocal cords were put into use. “This boy means nothing to you, and his life shouldn’t be of your concern.”

There was no reply.

“You _will_ surrender,” Michael continued, alert now.

“And I assume you’ll _make_ us surrender, will you, Prince?” a voice asked tauntingly, coming from above Michael’s head. He looked up but there was only a vent; the creature must have been lurking inside. “Who are you to interfere with our lives? This isn’t your game.”

“The boy is mine,” Michael asserted, lying now, but maybe it wasn’t a complete lie. “His bloodline are under my protection. And I won’t let you harm him.”

The same ghoul in the vent hissed. “Such strong words for such a small incident. His dirty, filthy Winchester blood only marks him for death. Surely you of all people know that, don’t you, Prince?”

“Not him. Not this one.”

“And what makes this one so different?”

“He’s unexpected.”

The ghoul chuckled. “You don’t like surprises, do you?”

Michael ignored the question. “Either leave this house now or I’ll seek you out and kill you both. You know who I am, and you know that I can easily smite you from where I stand, so I suggest you hurry off before I change my mind.”

He heard scraping noises and shuffling in the vents, telltale signs that the creatures were taking their leave while he was still feeling merciful, and not a moment too soon – Michael heard the roar of a truck pull into the driveway.

Adam. Michael couldn’t remember the last time he’d met a human face-to-face before, and for some reason he felt… nervous? Him? The Sword of Heaven? Hardly. And yet there was something to be said about the sputter of his heartbeat and his sweaty palms as he approached the open front door and stepped out onto the porch to greet the teenager.

Adam didn’t see Michael standing there until he was halfway up the path to the house; his head had been hanging and his eyes trained on the grass until he looked up and froze at the sight of the broad-shouldered, imposing stranger standing in front of his open door.

“Uh…” Adam made a small noise of confusion as he tried to piece together what was going on. “Who’re you….?”

Michael wasted no time in answering. “I’m Michael. I’m here to keep you safe.”

“Safe? Safe from wha—?”

Adam didn’t get a chance to finish as Michael disappeared and reappeared right in front of him with two fingers to the boy’s temple. Adam’s blue eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed, but not before Michael caught him to his chest and slowly sank into the grass, cradling the boy’s body to him.

“You can rest now, Adam,” Michael murmured, brushing a loose strand of hair away from his closed eyes. “I’ve got you.”


End file.
